


Where You Keep Your Guts (a collection of Johnny whump)

by LibertinePast



Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series), Karate Kid (Movies)
Genre: Anaphylaxis, Asphyxiation, Chloroform, Daniel comfort, Diving, Drowning, Hurt/Comfort, Johnny Whump, Johnny saying Daniel, M/M, Self-Sacrifice, allergy, first kiss in every one shot, gunpoint, hogtied, hostages, resus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:54:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26943259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibertinePast/pseuds/LibertinePast
Summary: Pain is relative. Johnny can take it, sometimes.  It takes all the strength Daniel has to watch.One-shots where Johnny has one shot at survival.
Relationships: Daniel LaRusso/Johnny Lawrence
Comments: 46
Kudos: 193





	1. Giri

**Author's Note:**

> These "chapters" will be unconnected one-shots for my Whumptober celebration. That Season 3 teaser with our bruised & beaten broham lit.my.fire and vulnerable Johnny/caretaker Daniel is all I want to write this month.
> 
> But don't worry, these whump-shots will always have a happy LawRusso ending! 
> 
> Collection title is from Johnny's favorite scene in Iron Eagle.

**_May 18, 2018_ **

Johnny still swirled his whiskey like a socialite. You had to appreciate the aroma and the full bodied thickness sliding down the glass, even while downing the whole bottle in this armpit of a strip mall.

Some things never changed.

The All-Valley trophy had looked the same for fifty years. There was a local urban legend that it was cursed, ever since the first winner of ‘68 was killed in Vietnam. He was wealthy, probably could've avoided the draft. He enlisted, as legend had it, because the tournament had ignited his blood-lust, leading him to his fate.

Under the trophy's heavy shadow in his dimly lit office, with the victory angel's wings already collecting dust, Johnny poured again.

*

*

*

The tinkling door chime seemed as innocent as ever, even in the greenish darkness. “Miguel?” he called out. 

The shadow out in the training hall foyer was a big dude--that was all he noticed at first. Then he saw him raising a rifle on a sling to firing position. 

Even as drunk as he was, Johnny knew it wasn't the ghost of the All-Valley Soldier.

Whenever Johnny heard about things like this on the news, he convinced himself he had a plan. A sliding front sweep of the gunman’s leg, grab the rifle, pin him down with it like a bo staff. All of this was running through his head right now, but it turned to gibberish. It was completely different staring down a real barrel. He was bringing a fist to a gunfight. 

“Who knew...humanoid rat Senseis really exist,” the voice trembled. 

“Tits…come on. Let’s talk about this.” Johnny realized this probably wasn’t the time to call him Tits, but he didn’t remember his name. He’d only taken one lesson. And, not to belabor this point, Johnny was drunk.

“I wanted to do this at the tournament today. I wanted to take out the whole row of you. But…it’s not the kids’ fault. They’re just looking up to a douchebag.”

A car was pulling up, the headlights coming in waves through the slats in the blinds. Tits didn’t turn around, keeping the AR-15 on him the whole time. Through the blinds, Johnny could see the interlocking rings of the Audi symbol on the grille.

His lips quivered a soundless _LaRusso_ beyond his control. 

“Looks like we got a visitor,” Tits said, backing up to the side of the room, the gun still on Johnny. “Just act cool. Don’t make me have to kill them too.”

 _Go away, go away,_ Johnny willed, but Daniel’s mystical Miyagi intuition must’ve been broken. He boyishly scampered right in, the door chime jangling.

Johnny couldn’t keep a potted cactus alive, but he would try to get him out of this, one way or another.

Even in shadow, you could see his sleeves were still rolled up from when he stepped into the arena floodlights. “Look, I couldn’t leave things like that--“

Johnny’s Speed King shirt was jarringly red in the dark room, his chest rising and falling too quickly for someone standing still.

“John?...what’s wrong?” 

Johnny wanted to close his eyes in defeat, but he didn’t take them off him. Maybe he could give him a signal. “Everything’s fine, Daniel.” 

The silence after that carried the weight of the whole strip mall, and Daniel could feel the duress in Johnny’s eyes practically pushing him towards the door.

Tits cocked the gun. 

Daniel froze in place, his wide brown eyes fixing on Johnny. Slowly, the boy with the rifle came into view. “Lucky you,” Tits said. “You get to decide exactly how the future plays out. Now go stand next to Biff, Marty McFuckup.”

For a moment there was nothing but the sound of Daniel trying to slow his breathing.

“….hi,” he swallowed as he drifted towards Johnny, beside the punching dummy. The mirrors on the opposite wall darkly reflected the scene as Daniel showed the gunman his empty hands. “…that’s…a heavy duty weapon to be aiming at just two guys. What’s your name, kid?” 

Johnny exhaled hard and caught his bangs in the updraft. Leave it to him to turn this into an after school special.

 _“…._ Landon.” 

“Oh, like Michael Landon? Well, you probably don’t know who that is, but…he was on this show called _Highway to Heaven._ ” 

“LaRusso, in case you didn’t notice, we’re on it—”

“Shut up,” Landon snapped. “At least he’s not calling me Tits!” 

“Johnny…”? Daniel said, not looking at him, but inching closer to his side. “I take it this is a disgruntled student, having seen your ‘gruntled’ students in action.” 

“You gonna be a wiseass about it? This dude couldn’t hack it. Bet he feels like a real badass now though, huh? I wonder if he even has the balls to shoot me.” 

“Eaasy, Johnny,” Daniel hushed, squeezing his arm.

“You guys trying to play good cop, bad cop or something?” Landon growled. “Forget it.” 

“Landon…” Daniel said. “You don’t want to do this. It’s not worth it.” 

“He _humiliated_ me.”

“Look, I know the feeling, but this is a little disproportionate, don’t you think? Shooting somebody is a very jail-able crime.” 

“That’s why people turn the gun on themselves after,” the boy almost smiled.

“No no, c’mon, Landon, you don’t want to do that.”

 _“Stop telling me what I want!”_ Landon spat, taking his most precise aim at Daniel yet.

Johnny’s heart began to beat out of his chest. The bourbon in his blood made the sight of Daniel in the crosshairs overwhelming. He had to get the rifle pointed back at himself before he lost control. “Hey, hey! This is between you and me, Tits. Let him go.” 

Landon saw the distinct change in Johnny as soon as the gun’s muzzle changed course, the terrified lines in his face.

“Johnny, if you think I’m leaving you here alone, you’re nuts, man.” 

“If he lets you go, you _go,_ LaRusso. _”_

“Nobody’s leaving, Sensei. I think I just found your soft spot,” Landon said, keeping his aim true on Daniel.

“Yeah? I just found yours too. Kinda hard to miss.”

“John,” He knew he was trying to provoke the gun back on him. Daniel’s voice was shrinking, trembling. “Think of Robby, don’t worry about me.”

“I _am_ thinking about Robby-- **_”_ **

He knew Tits was squeezing the trigger when the boy’s eyes began to squinch shut. Hell of a telegraph. 

In those dizzying, airless seconds, the 24 hours since the shove in the home dojo dissolved, and Johnny shoved Daniel again, this time out of the bullet’s path.

The bullet had a hollow point and turned sideways as it ripped through Johnny’s chest and he was jolted into the wall, then crumpled to the floor. He could hear Daniel’s frantic voice, but it sounded like it was bouncing around from a far away locker room.

Landon had always pictured himself raining bullets on his whole school, but watching the blast of blood from a single bullet had him bolting for the door.

Daniel clumsily crawled across the floor, his wrists barely holding him up. The chant sputtering out of him didn’t sound like his own voice. “No no no, w _hy,_ Johnny??. _”_ His teeth scraped across his lip as he grabbed Johnny’s red shirt. “So stupid, why did you do that??” 

The bullet entry was under his collarbone and looked small, but the pool of blood expanding on the mat told him everything he needed to know about the wide swath of damage underneath. His bottom lip shaking, Johnny looked up and finally answered. “...because I’m drunk…”

Daniel had a vague awareness of hitting the SOS slider on his phone, the operator left calling out on the floor as he tended to Johnny, feeling detached from his body. “W-we gotta stop the bleeding,” Daniel whimpered, the wall behind them looking like a Jackson Pollock of blood. He didn’t want to leave Johnny’s side to find something to compress the wound, but he ran to the office and came back with balled up gi pants. He had to press it tightly, as painful as it looked to Johnny. “Keep your eyes on me. I’m right here.”

Daniel had multiple eyes and Johnny didn’t know which ones to look at. “...picked a good day to...wear a red shirt,” he hissed through his teeth, with a widening gaze.

“No, don’t hold your breath, let it out slow.” He tried to find enough of his own air to coach him with, to stave off his own panic. “You don’t have to do anything but breathe, okay?” He grasped his hand, Johnny’s blood filling the beveled edges of his wedding ring. “I…” Daniel swallowed, his throat feeling like the time he drank a yellow jacket from a can. “You hold on as tight as you need to,” he said, squeezing his hand.

“...i’ll be alright...” Johnny nodded in a tiny spasm, unable to return the grip. 

“You...you _didn’t_ have to do that." 

“...he didn’come here to shoot _you._ ”

“What, somebody can’t change their mind?” Daniel half smiled through his trembling lip, trying to keep it together.

“...larusso…listen...just in case...”

Daniel shook his head vehemently. “Please don’t say shit like that--” 

“Yesterday was one of the...the best days i’ve had...”

“Of course. Eight hours of drinkin’, right?”

“...of you.” 

Johnny’s eyes fluttered closed. That fiery blue was the only thing keeping Daniel from breaking and he gasped, one hand compressing the wound and the other flailing for his face. “Johnny? _Johnny_! Shit shit shit, stay awake asshole, I’m not kidding--” He heard the sirens in the distance but every second that passed, Johnny’s chest slowed and skipped, and the fugitive blue behind his eyelids was tinting his skin. 

_“_ Stay with me,” Daniel chanted until the words lost their meaning, shaking him gently to the rhythm of the tremors in his own hands, his mind falling back to the arena, remembering what he’d been determined to do for Robby’s shoulder, but didn’t know how.

He slapped his hands together, the heated friction burning his palms as he worked them back and forth in a fevered trance...until he broke down and sank onto Johnny’s chest, sobbing like he hadn’t since he was eight.

The first responders found him like this and gently drew him away, then went about their necessary tasks that looked like torture. Just a flashlight being shined in his eyes was hard to watch. Johnny weakly fought them as they strapped him down--he couldn’t turn his head to look for Daniel. His neck muscles pulled tight when they put the oxygen mask over his face, and he tried to yank it off. _Claustrophobic,_ Daniel winced, knowing full well why. _“How does second place feel now?”_ rattled in his head.

Daniel tried so hard to focus on the police officers’ questions about the gunman--gunboy? He hadn’t looked one of them in the eye yet, unable to keep that sweaty blond head out of his sight for more than a second. His own breathing synced to the fog filling the mask as he struggled for coherent answers. When they asked him his name, he misspoke “Johnny.” 

* * *

  
  


Daniel and Robby sat in the hospital waiting room, completely zoned out. Robby scratched at his slinged arm and glanced at Daniel periodically. 

Daniel had changed his bloody clothes back at the dojo. He found a T-shirt and jeans in the office and turned to stone when he pulled the black T-shirt over and head and the red _Survivor_ logo faced him in the mirror. 

He’d scrubbed his hands, but his palm lines hadn’t lost the carmine bloodstains.

The shirt and jeans hung loosely on him, and his face was hollow with fear.

“Mr. LaRusso, I ...don’t know what to say.” 

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything.”

“I didn’t know that Dad was the type to take a bullet for someone.”

Daniel sniffed. “...Miyagi-Do...is about defending yourself and protecting others,” he recited, staring at the wall.

“But, he’s not--”

“He is. He may not teach it, but he is,” Daniel said, dragging his thumb under his eye. “You take after him.” 

Robby found a brief closed smile, but looked down again. “You don’t think he’s gonna like...hold this over your head forever or something?”

“I’ll hold it over my own head forever. He has to come out of this.” 

Robby trembled a little nod.

They talked about what would happen to the clichéd shooter--how all the neighbors would say Landon seemed like a good kid, how all his classmates would comment on the red flags they’d seen. Johnny probably wouldn’t even want to press charges, as much as the punishment didn’t fit the crime. 

Daniel couldn’t think that far ahead. All Johnny needed to do was keep breathing.

The passage of time was sanding Daniel down to dust. 

He had a vague recollection of being plopped on the couch with Sam, Amanda nudging them to go to the All-Valley. Johnny’s eyes finding him immediately in the bleachers, looking pumped and like he wanted to seep into the mats at the same time. That was just this afternoon? It felt like it happened during the Carter administration.

He chewed his cuticles. He gnawed his lip. He pushed his tongue over every tooth. He remembered a conversation from long ago in Okinawa. _“Mistah Sato, I don’ get it. You had a change of heart just like that?”_

_“I owe Yoshi a debt that can never be repaid. The highest of all devotions.”_

 _Giri,_ that was what it was called...a burden and a grace, its heaviness outweighed by its warmth.

The doctor came out to them and they shot up from their chairs. “Hi. I’m Dr. Norouzi--” 

“Are you related to an Anoush?” Daniel blabbered nervously.

“Uh, about ten Anoushes, actually--” 

“I-I’m sorry, I’m a little on edge.”

The doctor rested his hand on Daniel’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. The surgery went well. Beyond expectations. He’s a bruiser, and he’s gonna be okay.” 

Robby and Daniel looked at each other with eyes that were both bleary and bright. “Really?” Daniel said, feeling like a kid.

“Believe me, when I heard it was an AR weapon, I braced myself...but the bullet took a right and there was no organ damage. Only a tear in the pectoralis muscle, or as the entertaining Mr. Lawrence said, quote, ‘Tits shot me in the tit?”

The last thing they expected was to be laughing right now. Daniel rubbed his eyes, the joy tinged with watery relief. 

“One of you can have five minutes while he’s in surgical recovery. We just ask that you wear a mask, since he’s at high risk for infection.” 

“You go ahead, Robby,” Daniel said, patting his good shoulder.

“It’s okay, Mr. LaRusso. You guys are the ones who went through the night from hell. I know you won’t sleep until you see that he’s okay for yourself.”

Daniel sighed hard. This kid was something else. “Alright.”

* * *

When masked-up Daniel entered the room, Johnny opened his eyes, lids dazed and heavy. He had oxygen in his nose, a gold five-o’clock shadow. His mouth creeped into a lopsided smile.“...hey…”

“Hey,” Daniel sniffed.

“Was I in a coma for a few years and you went to med school?”

Johnny couldn’t see Daniel’s mouth, but the creases in his temples were strings of lights. “....seemed like years,” his muffled little voice answered, sounding more nasally than ever. 

“What, do I have gunshot germs? Take that stupid thing off, Hawkeye.”

“It’s to protect _you_ , jackass.” 

“Yeah, then again, leave it on. Enjoy that dutch oven of your own breath.”

Daniel shook his head in precious annoyance, then reached over the guardrail and held on to his arm. 

“Oh, but touching me with your greasy fingers is okay?” 

“I dunno, the doctor didn’t mention it. Robby’s here, by the way.”

He shifted a little straighter in bed. “Yeah?”

“But they only let one of us see you, and...he told me to go.”

“Lucky me,” Johnny smirked. “How’s his shoulder…?”

“He’s a little more concerned about you getting shot.”

“Eh, I’ll be fine. Probably won’t be able to do a pec bounce anymore, though. That move drives chicks crazy.” 

“ _Really._ And when’s the last time you did that?”

“God, I should get you thrown out of here.” Johnny didn’t even notice that Daniel was wearing his clothes. The mask sheathing his face was painfully distracting and frustrating.

“I only have a few more minutes, anyway...” Daniel’s hand had slid from forearm to wrist, to the back of Johnny’s hand, his fingers lacing into his from on top.

“Better make ‘em last, then, Hawkeye.” 

“...Johnny, I...don’t know what to say that’ll do justice to what you did.”

Johnny shook his head. “...obviously I wouldn’t be lying here if I’d been at the dojo alone, ok? We’re even-steven.”

“Hardly.” 

“...then repay me,” Johnny said, his palm in Daniel’s now, his thumb stroking wildly. He pulled him closer over the guardrail, the pangs of _giri_ swelling in Daniel’s chest. _The highest of all devotions._

“Johnny, you’re...high on pain meds…” 

“Then maybe I won’t remember any of this,” Johnny grinned, almost nose-to-nose with him, his breath fanning the crinkled paper mask.

“I don’t want to take this off.” 

“Then don’t.” Johnny touched his lips delicately to the paper, tracing the soft outline he found. Daniel’s sharp inhalation made the mask stick harder to his nose and mouth--which Johnny noted with a quiet chuckle-- as the curves of Daniel’s lips surfaced for exploration.

Johnny waited for a frustrated sound behind the barrier. Bingo.

He gently pulled away and shrugged at Daniel’s giant eyes. “Eh. Lamer than kissing a poster.” 

He waited again.

Daniel fixed the crooked cannula in Johnny’s nose.

Then he tore the mask loops from his ears and weakly crashed into his face, cupping it in his hands and trying not to tear up. 

The heart monitor spiked, Daniel’s mouth proclaiming the life debt with every little sound, every flick, every breath split between two halves of the same trauma. The last thing they needed was another experience that no one else understood, a bullet no one else could extract. For now, they were just happy to be in one piece.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Reckless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pain from kicking out an unchanged Kreese runs deep. Daniel holds his breath in horrified sympathy.
> 
> Or, Sharks, Miguel, and rainchecks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you love submerged OTPs as much as I do, it's your lucky day. Enjoy.

There was broken amber glass in the apartment courtyard, no doubt that was once a stubby bottle. Daniel had to practically foxtrot around it to get to Johnny’s place. The “2” on the door looked like a black hole to nowhere.

He wasn’t expecting him to answer his quick but heavy knock, but at least he could say he tried. 

Miguel came out of his apartment clutching a laundry basket full of large women’s panties. It took a moment of them looking at each other before Daniel realized that the contents of the basket didn’t phase the boy at all—just the awkward company.

“Hey,” Miguel hesitated. “...Mr. LaRusso.”

Daniel sighed out of his nose, his mouth pursing at an angle. “Hey. Look, uh...I heard that Mr. Lawrence kicked out Kreese. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.” 

“Oh. Well, it’s better for _us_ , anyway--I was never a fan. He was always like ‘Am I right, Diaz?’ when he told made-up stories about Noriega. Like I’m down with all the Latin American dictators.” 

“Not surprising. I, um...I’m sure things came to a head in an ugly way. How’s Johnny doing with all this?” 

Miguel’s face was worth a thousand words. “Well, he’s not here.”

“Yeah, I figured...his car is pretty hard to miss.” Suddenly Daniel wasn’t sure if he was the less antsy one. The presence of another All-Valley champion always put a heaviness in the air, no matter who it was. “I mean, not as hard to miss as the first edition ‘59 Silver Challenger,” he babbled. “It had giant fins.” 

Miguel shrugged. “Well, Sensei’s gonna be getting pretty up close and personal with some of those.”

“Huh?” 

“I thought he was just trolling me at first, but he knows some guy named Rico who does shark tours in Topanga.”

“Wait, wha?...I don--what the hell is a _shark tour?_ ” Daniel grimaced.

“Sensei said he felt like walking on the wild side. He’s seriously gonna go diving in a cage.” 

Daniel slapped his own face, his hand mashing down to his mouth. “Hohhh boy. That?-- tells me everything I need to know about how it went with Kreese. H-he’s not thinking clearly--” 

“Nah, Sensei knows what he’s doing. I was kinda disappointed it wasn’t a training exercise for us, actually.”

“ _That’s_ a typical training exercise?? Oh God--” Daniel looked like the courtyard walls were closing in on him. “OK, ok----Miguel, listen, I’ve got a small boat, I’m gonna head out to open water from Topanga Beach and try to find him before he gets himself into trouble. ” 

“Mr. LaRusso, it’s not like, a-a death wish, or-- you really think it could be that bad? Can I come with you?” 

“You got it, get in. And leave the frilly laundry.” 

* * *

Johnny hadn’t been okay since he threw Kreese out. 

He was mourning a whole different timeline where the old man had really changed.

There were framed photos of the two of them on his desk. Coyote Creek wasn’t a place where you had to finish off your friends--just a yearly picnic. _“These bruisers deserve a break!”_ Kreese would bring his famous Roundhouse Potato Salad. The kids would be all over the spread, and Sensei K wouldn’t have veins popping out of his temple when they asked if there was gluten or nuts in anything

Back in reality, "Y _ou’re weak. Vulnerable. Spineless.”_ was looping in Johnny’s head over and over again. 

So, he felt like walking on the wild side.

Rico’s boat was aptly named _Once Bitten_ and he only played Great White CD’s during his tours. Business hadn’t been stellar for a while--chicken shit millennials and such--so Johnny was the only one out today. He’d dug out his Body Glove wetsuit that didn’t quite fit like a glove anymore, but it did the trick.

Rico had commented on this already. He was kind of a dick and looked like an older version of Robby’s circle jerk friend with the 'stache.

“You sure you don’t want a refresher on the gear, man?” Rico asked, stirring the bucket of guts with a metal ladle. “It’s been a while since the days of scuba sex with Shan.” 

Johnny strapped the tank on his back, goose pimpled. He really didn’t remember much about that boozy Baja trip--besides it possibly being when Robby was conceived--but it wasn’t hard to stick a regulator in your mouth and look at sharks, or fuck for that matter. Easy-greazy. “Nah, I’m good. Just get me a brewski.”

All Rico had was Sam Adams, but it would do. Johnny was about halfway through when he saw a small runabout bouncing on the water, headed in their direction.

The cheesy, public-access-looking shark logo on the boat made it easy for Daniel to spot. He and Miguel looped around and pulled the polished _Yukie_ alongside the rundown _Once Bitten._

“You gotta be kidding…” Johnny groaned. “You just can’t stop spying on me, can you? And you brought _him?_ What, is he trying to poach you, Diaz?” 

Before Miguel could say anything, Daniel went off. “You’re having a pre-shark-dive drink?? That’s a _wonderful_ idea, Johnny.” 

“You both look like pussies in those life jackets,” Johnny snickered at them. “You wanna be treated like a baby, go right ahead, Diaz. You can have him.” 

“I’m not switching dojos, okay? LaRusso just thought this was a bad idea.”

“Y’ok, there goes the ‘Mr.’ right out the window,” Daniel griped as he dropped anchor. 

“Sensei, listen...you don’t have to do this. I know you’ve been upset--”

“I’m not _upset,_ man, I’m not LaRusso after he loses a beauty pageant,” Johnny said, tugging the mask around his neck on top of his head.

Daniel’s eyes widened as Rico ladled blood and fish guts into the water. His hands curled into fists. “Johnny…you’re being a macho idiot and you’re lucky your student isn’t too far gone to see it. You did the right thing asking Kreese to leave. Why are you punishing yourself for it? What are you trying to prove?”

“Why do you care?” Johnny asked with a sober expression.

“Because I…because there’s no need to do something reckless like this!” 

“Sure there is. Adrenaline rush, signed waiver, and I already paid Rico,” Johnny smirked, taking a long pull of his beer.

“No refunds, no exchanges,” Rico shrugged, ladling blood again.

“You gonna take that beer underwater with you, Johnny? Alternate between swigging and breathing?” 

“Nope.” He tipped it back and guzzled it finished, then tossed the bottle in a bucket of cig ashes, pinning down Daniel’s eyes with his. “Let’s do this.”

Rico opened the cage. “It’s perfectly safe. It stays close to the surface with these buoys. Get the stick out your ass, man,” he threw at Daniel.

“UH?? The ‘stick in my ass,” Daniel ranted with animated quote fingers, “is that he has a son and students who care about him.” 

“And a boyfriend, too, apparently,” Rico scoffed. “You guys gonna go pick out a nautical duvet after this, Johnny?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Johnny sighed, pulling the mask over his eyes and nose, popping the mouthpiece in and Darth Vadering down the ladder. He looked at Daniel defiantly once more behind his mask, then sank to the bottom of the cage, which was about ten feet down. Rico closed the top, which left a narrow airspace. 

Miguel worriedly watched the bubbles rising until he noticed something else. His hand flew out and grabbed Daniel’s arm. “Oh shit. Oh shit. Look, look, they’re already showing up?!” 

Two pointed dorsal fins weaved towards their boats. Rico waved the bloody ladle around. “Guaranteed,” he chuckled. “Ooh, noice. Makos. Very underrated. More agile than great whites. Come aboard, losers. Let’s check out the reaction shot.” 

Rico offered a hand, which Daniel and Miguel reluctantly accepted onto his boat. He led them to a laptop on a cheap particle board attached to the taffrail. There was a camera on the cage, the video output on the screen.

Johnny’s hair moved like a gold anemone. His exhalation bubbles spiked as he looked up at the circling shadows. Daniel’s thumb was kneading across his lip. “A-are they gonna smash into the cage?” 

“Of course. They think Johnny’s an injured seal. That’s the fun of it.” 

Miguel pried an inhaler out of his pocket, shook it wildly, and took a long drag.

When he was done, Daniel snatched it out of his hand and did the same, as the bewildered boy looked on. He mindlessly handled it back to him and Miguel wiped it with his hoodie. Daniel’s eyes didn’t leave the screen. “I don’t think I can watch thi--”

The camera shook violently as one of the makos crashed into the cage, and Johnny was jolted into the bars. The vibrations were felt across the deck.

“Shit!” Daniel whimpered and Miguel clutched his faintly-mustached mouth.

“That’s what they pay me for,” Rico grinned. “What do you say we do a little more chumming?” 

Daniel didn’t know what that meant until Rico went for the bucket of blood. He lunged for him and yanked it out of his hand. “Yeeah, I don’t think so, unless you wanna get clocked with it,” he muttered, setting it down.

“Jesus, dude! Lighten up.” 

“Um, is there some kind of panic button Sensei can set off if he’s had enough?” Miguel asked as the other mako smashed into the cage.

“There’s a safe word,” Rico shrugged. “It’s just hard to hear it underwater.” 

“If you’re this sadistic with your friends, I’d hate to see what you do to your enemies,” Daniel said. He grasped the laptop screen, and as if Johnny felt the weight of his concerned eyes, he noticed where the camera was and gave it a thumbs up. Those blue marble eyes were very wide under his mask, belying the calm gesture. 

Johnny tried to sort out his thoughts as the makos continued to nose the cage harder. His heart was pounding, and he was fairly sure this was what he wanted. Then he started to think about the alternate timeline Kreese waiting on deck when he came up. _“I think those overgrown tuna were more afraid of_ **_you,”_ ** _he chuckled through his cigar smoke. “You did good, son.”_

_Then, real Kreese crashed back. “You clung to those bars like a wet little cunt.”_

Johnny slowly stuck his arm out of the cage in a come-hither motion.

"No, no no, what is he doin’?....” Daniel panted. “Provoking the sharks?? That’s it, Rico, it’s over. Get him out---he’s been through an ordeal, he’s not in his right mind.”

Rico looked at his watch. “He’s still got twenty-five minutes.” 

It had only been five minutes. It felt like a year.

Daniel stared Rico down and grabbed him by the T-shirt collar. “ ** _I’m_** the captain now. Do it,” he growled, then threw him down on the deck.

Miguel stood beside Daniel in a hard stance. “And I’m the first mate, asshole.”

“Fine. You’re the ones that owe him two-hundred bucks.” 

“Ooh, how am I ever gonna afford that?” Daniel sneered.

The sharks were biting into the buoys at the top of the cage. It tilted and lurched.

“It’s moving--” Daniel gasped. “It’s sinking!” 

Johnny felt the free-fall of his stomach as the cage shifted down. He tore off the weight belt and kicked upward, hitting the top of the cage that had been poking above the surface before. The air space was gone.

“Shit,” Rico hissed through gritted teeth, looking over the side. “Alright, alright, I got this, let me just hit the cage release.” 

Rico extended a pole in the water, until something grabbed hold of it and dragged him in with a truncated “Motherfu--!!” The water was still for a second, until he popped up with a blood curdling wail, and one of the makos dragged him under.

All Johnny could see was a red cloud in the water, a storm of bubbles, then an eerie peace.

Then, he saw Rico’s torso and legs sinking past the cage.

Johnny emitted a scream that would’ve made Jamie Lee Curtis proud, if anyone could hear it. 

The surface water turned an unbearable crimson and Rico never came up. Miguel howled, “Oh my fucking God, fuck! They got Rico!” 

Daniel gagged behind his hand. He knew he was going to thrash awake from this nightmare at any moment, he just knew it—

He held the laptop with both hands. The screen flickered and then frantic Johnny came back into view.

Daniel pressed his hand to the screen. “How are we gonna get him out of there?” he moaned in a choked voice. The cage lurched down again. “Oh shit!” 

“It must have a simple release if we can just get to it in one piece,” Miguel stuttered. “W-we gotta keep telling ourselves the sharks can’t get him and he has air. He’s doing a hell of a lot better than Rico.” 

As long as the cage didn’t come unhitched and sink a hundred feet down. Daniel was beside himself, but he had to keep the kid calm. “You’re right, Champ,” Daniel puffed, patting his shoulder. “You’re right. We just have to open it as quickly as possible. There must be some kind of big knife on this boat to fend the sharks off with.” He tore his life vest off. “I’ll go. You stay here. He’d never forgive me if something happened to you. Promise me.”

Miguel nodded. _As opposed to everything else he’s forgiven you for?_ “What if we throw the chum bucket as far as we can? That might lure them away from Sensei.” 

Daniel nodded brightly. “Good idea.”

Together, on three, they flung it as far as they could.

Johnny was holding on to the bars painfully hard, his knuckles clearer than white. Every time the sharks rammed the cage, it got more crooked. 

Then, breath by breath, his mouthpiece felt like it was pulling farther into his mouth. His chest got tighter, hotter. He hummed and grunted as his cheeks hollowed. He got dizzy.

Daniel found a large bowie knife in the cockpit of the ship. If Rico wasn’t dead, Daniel would be writing a strongly-worded Yelp review of this shark tour, that was for su—

A howl of _“Mr. Larusso?!!?”_ assailed his ears, and he ran for the stern.

Miguel pointed desperately at the screen. “Sensei’s in trouble, I don’t think he has any air left!” 

Johnny was squeezing the reg with both hands like he was forcing himself through a grueling harmonica solo. Pitiful wisps of bubbles were coming out, then nothing. He remembered he was on camera but didn’t even dare waste precious energy to slash a finger across his throat.

_“C’mon, he can’t breathe!”_ he heard Tommy shouting. _“Sensei, please!”_

Daniel held his breath in horrified sympathy. “....no! There’s gotta be a spare tank somewhere, help me find one!” 

“Here!” Miguel shouted after a seconds-of-eternity search, and tossed it to Daniel. He dove over the taffrail without the bowie knife, the sharks light years from his mind anymore. Johnny was going to drown.

Nothing was flashing in front of Johnny’s eyes but a Daniel memory flipbook that got too watery to flip.

Daniel wasn’t the strongest swimmer, not with his knee. Johnny’s life depended on those tender ligaments now, but he wouldn’t find that very funny at the moment. Johnny was about twelve feet down, and Daniel prayed that he wouldn’t rip the dead mouthpiece out the moment he saw the spare. It was the only thing sealing his throat off from the seawater. _Don’t give yourself an embolism,_ Daniel tried to transmit as he reached through the bars.

Their eyes met and the ocean fell away. 

The oath in Daniel’s gaze kept Johnny steady as he slowly exhaled and took in the new reg. He puffed a few precious times as Daniel rested his head against his through the bars, feeling the rush vicariously. When Johnny was sated, he tried to pass it back. Daniel shook his head, pointed at him and shot away, scrambling to find the release on the cage. 

Johnny slammed his arm against the bars, waving the reg around with the biggest fucking hint he could muster.

Daniel _was_ running out of basic of life, but didn't dare show it. He flipped the bird at Johnny and pointed at him wildly until Johnny put the reg back in his own mouth. 

Daniel saw a dorsal fin in his peripheral as he finally got the top of the cage to open. He flailed for Johnny as he shot up, and their hands clasped hard. Johnny grabbed Daniel in a headlock and shoved the regulator in his mouth. He felt Daniel’s denial break hungrily, and tried to keep him still as the mako grazed them, then moved on.

Miguel was clinging to the rail, fighting the merciless instinct to flip in after them, but he remembered his promise. His eyes welled up with tears. “C’mon, c’mon, cmon,” he chanted...and the two Senseis thrashed to the surface, coughing and gasping. 

They lunged for the ladder and climbed up weakly, collapsing on the deck.

Once Johnny caught his breath, heaving, he yelled “You’re…a fucking idiot, Daniel!” 

“Oh, _I’m_ the idiot!” Yes, he heard the name, but now wasn’t the time to point it out.

Miguel fell to his knees beside them, eye-rolling with relief. 

“You ever been on a plane, shit-for-brains?” Johnny sputtered on. "You have to put your own damn oxygen on before you can help someone else.” 

“I didn’t need it.” 

“You were just showing off!” 

The bickering was the best sound Miguel had heard in a while. Better than the crazy cheers at Valley Fest.

* * *

After they called the coast guard and had a moment of silence for Rico, they boarded the _Yukie_ and headed for the Topanga shore. Daniel showed Miguel how to steer and tended to Johnny with a sigh, wrapping a towel around his neoprene shoulders, his hands lingering. “God, Johnny…” he said almost inaudibly, feeling the solid, mammal weight of him.

Johnny found himself leaning into the delicate hold. “At least I’ll be back in time for my class,” he said.

“No. Oh, no. It’s cancelled. You need to take it easy. You’re in shock and not cleared for the bends. I’m taking you to the walk-in.” 

“Fine.” 

They watched Miguel at the helm, looking very pleased with himself.

“So let me get this straight...Diaz told you I was cage diving and you came zipping out here like fucking Magnum P.I. to stop me?”

“Yeah, and you owe it all to him for snitching on you.” 

“Maybe you had some sort of Miyagi premonition or something.” 

“Mr. Miyagi didn’t have premonitions,” Daniel snickered. “Listen...I don’t know how well you knew Rico, but I’m sorry.”

“Appreciate that, but...just a fairweather drinking buddy. He wasn’t like...you or anything.”

“Well, he did try to stick a pole in the water for you.”

“Exactly my point,” Johnny swallowed hard. “Thanks.”

Daniel knelt down in front of Johnny on the bench seat. “Please tell me what happened with Kreese.” 

“Later,” Johnny sighed. “I will, just…”

Daniel sat on the bench seat next to him. “Ok. Now’s not the time.” He watched the gentle rise and fall of Johnny’s chest. 

Johnny took in the concerned gaze and felt like he was dripping into a puddle on the deck. He put a hand on Daniel’s left knee, squeezing lightly.

“I’ll wait,” Daniel said quietly. 

“I know.” 

* * *

After Johnny was cleared at the emergency room, Carmen came to pick up Miguel, and Daniel drove Johnny home in silence. Johnny was finally out of the wetsuit that highlighted his beautiful arms and soft belly, and was wearing one of Daniel’s shirts that accentuated the same things.

When they pulled up in front of Reseda Heights, Johnny sighed hard and rolled his eyes. This was coming to a close like the end of a dorky date. Well, a traumatic high seas adventure sort of date, but anyway.

“If I...drowned like a pussy, which I totally would have.…”

“Please don’t start a sentence like that,” Daniel shivered.

“Would you have...y’know. Kissed me?”

“That’s not exactly a kiss. But yeah. For as long as it took.”

“You honoring rainchecks then, salesguy?” 

They leaned over in their seats in an explosion of mutuality, faces held, life exchanged. Johnny felt Daniel’s laugh and drew it in, knowing it wasn’t normal to wish someone had resuscitated you, but he was glad he was awake for it.

  
  
  
  
  



	3. Green Stuff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daniel is jealous of Carmen. Salsa night gets friendly, but not allergy friendly.

How could a man whose feet moved on the mat like a round of ammo was being fired at them _not_ know how to dance? 

Daniel wasn’t buying it at first. It seemed like a maneuver to get Carmen to fall all over him, and she was shmooping it on thick. Daniel had managed to politely ignore her for most of the night...when she wasn’t commanding Johnny’s full attention.

It was much easier to be annoyed by his mere existence than to sort out this murky feeling.

Jesus Christ, Johnny really _did_ have two left feet. Besides, he wasn’t the type to pretend to be a dork, and he genuinely looked like one next to that swaying red rose.

Daniel was showcasing his best moves, the old _5, 6, 7, 8_ , but somehow he didn’t feel any less awkward. He’d learned in performing arts classes to always _always_ smile, but it was making him feel like an overgrown Kids Incorporated member on this sultry floor. You had to put on bedroom eyes in Latin dance. Carmen looked tantalizing, fierce and in control.

Johnny was giving her the same look, his blue eyes getting darker by the minute. 

Daniel tongued his teeth as if there was a whole sprig of cilantro woven between them. He stepped on Amanda’s foot. “Shit, sorry.” 

He regrouped with a shimmy turn and gave her his best fiery look.

“Babe,” Amanda said with a spiked giggle. “What’s happening to your face? You look like Bela Lugosi.”

“Nno no, this is my sexy face.”

“You’re sexy when you’re _perky,_ ” she slurred, mashing the corners of his mouth upward.

“I don’t wanna be per--never mind.”

Daniel watched as Johnny’s steps got smoother, and he realized Goldenboy was taking notes from _his_ feet. Johnny glanced up to Daniel’s glare and realized he was caught. He scrambled into a cross-body lead and quickly spun away.

“Ohh! Johnny’s got some moves!” Amanda grinned. 

“Yeah, he’s stealin’ em from _me_.”

Carmen quickened her pace and Johnny’s hips were looser than ever. Daniel’s stomach dropped, but he blamed it on the chili relleno. He gritted his teeth behind closed lips and twirled Amanda in a figure 8 with a slick hand switch, their hips rocking together.

Johnny’s teeth were bearing down on his lip. He was working a dickheaded little butt-sway in his distressed jeans. Daniel squinted at him, his eyes two black slits.

Johnny dipped Carmen and she whipped her hair around, circling back with a hand on Johnny’s chest and their faces close.

Daniel did the same, only he pulled Amanda’s leg to his waist as she flew back up.

The two men exchanged a haunted look from long ago, the one between a swinging kitchen porthole and another dance floor. Even with something in his grasp other than scalding meatballs, the same lost feeling was in the pit of Daniel’s stomach.

Carmen was so delighted with the fire she’d brought out in Johnny, so thirsty, she couldn’t save this for the goodnight. She grabbed his face and kissed him, and as thrilled as he was, he couldn’t stop his eyes from flicking open and watching Daniel stare at them.

Daniel’s chest fell hard and he twirled Amanda into his own kiss, a line tight as tripwire from his eyes to Johnny’s.

The song ended, and the women gave each other a victorious look. The familiar opening guitar twang of “ _Despacito_ ” rose up.

Carmen rolled her eyes. “Oh god, this song’s been so overplayed for like a _year.”_

“Ridiculously,” Amanda frowned. “It reminds me of men’s figure skating.”

“I know, right? Let’s go to the powder room.”

“An’ then we’ll ask the DJ for some 90’s Ricky Martin.”

“Yass, girl. Don’t go anywhere, okay?” she grinned at Johnny, holding his hand as long as the length of his arm would allow as she walked backwards.

Everyone on the floor continued to dance and sway as Johnny and Daniel stood there in the eye of the salsa storm, doing nothing but glaring.

“That was quite the show you put on, Johnny.”

“That _I_ put on?”

“Y’know, I...I thought we were making some headway when you told me about kicking out Kreese, but to see you carryin’ on like that with a _student’s mother--_ ”

A twirling couple bumped into Daniel’s back and sent him hurtling into Johnny. 

He hit his chest hard and Johnny had no options but to bear hug him so they both didn’t fall. When all the other dancers saw the embrace, they assumed that a stereotypical gay couple was about to give them all a run for their money. They started to clap to the rhythm and widened the circle so Johnny and Daniel were in the dead center of it.

They stood there as the wave of encouraging cheers was somehow both loud and distant.

“ _Now_ look what you did!” Johnny growled.

The margaritas flowing through Daniel’s veins probably had something to do with the fact that he angrily decided to give the crowd what they wanted. “What are you gonna do about it??”

He yanked Johnny by the hands into _a quick quick slow_ that Johnny mirrored perfectly, a feverish wheel technique blooming as if they were going to fall into water if someone made a misstep. 

The crowd was woooooo-ing like a studio audience now.

Raymond was at a nearby table and the contents of his burrito squirted out when he happened to look up at the dance floor. _Sensei_? he mouthed.

The spins, aggressive as they were, always landed with a perfect switch of hands and their eyes bitterly close. It was like karate—anticipating, reacting, exhaling—but without breaking apart.

One last twist had Daniel dipping Johnny like he weighed nothing at all, and when they snapped back up, they just stood there with a breath's distance between their lips.

They drew back with a jolt, as if they’d been outside their bodies for the whole dance.

Everyone clapped and cheered and went back to twirling their partners.

Johnny swallowed hard, his heavy eyelids still blinking like he didn’t know where he was. His skin from his face to his neck was flushed pink.

Daniel’s mouth was catching flies. “I uh—“

“Save it, ok? I gotta take a piss.”

Daniel watched him slouch away until Amanda and Carmen came back from shooting the shit with the DJ, way in the corner. “So, what’d we miss?” Amanda said.

“Nothin’ just catching up,” Daniel muttered in a rote manner, feeling like a slow-shutter trail of that gold head was visible in the air.

Luckily, there was no one in the _Señors_ room to hear Johnny’s pained monologue as he braced the sink. “Best damn girl to cross your path in eons and you’re gonna fuck it up playing twinkle toes with _LaRusso??”_

He felt unusually out of breath, his throat full of pressure. He splashed his face with water and looked up in the mirror to find the skin around his eye puffing up like he’d had a bad Botox job. “The hell…? Look like the bitch with the TV…” 

He thought about the dance floor again and _ahemmrrff_ ed, feeling like the dangly punching bag in the back of his throat was growing.

He thought of Kreese owning a Johnny effigy full of pins, a Zippo waving across its throat. He thought of the other option, but that hadn’t happened in so long. Not since that Los Toros place with Bobby. Besides, he’d specifically _said..._

When he went back to the dining area, Daniel, Carmen and Amanda were sitting at the table. Daniel noticed Johnny’s face the moment he came into view from afar, and—thinking he’d been in a fight— he tipped half his martini into his lap. “Oh God?”

He casually sat down, tilting his chin up and _aherrrfm_ ing. “....What.”

“Johnny!?” Carmen squeaked. “Are you having an allergic reaction??”

“Nah, can’t be, I said no green stuff. Guacamole. Whatever.” 

“But she didn’t write it down!” Daniel groaned.

“I know what it tastes like, dillweed, there wasn’t any in my plate.”

“John, you have to alert them so there’s no cross-contamination. You don’t just say ‘no green stuff’ for a life-threatening allergy! Do you have an epi-pen?” 

“Ooh, yeah, right in my back pocket, just in case,” he snarked. “How many avocados do you run into on a daily basis?”

Amanda winced, “Honey, this is California.”

“—I-I’m calling 9-1-1,” Daniel shivered, his thumbs feeling like flailing sausages on the buttons. “I can’t believe you.”

Carmen grasped for Johnny’s swollen face, slipping into her first language: _“Muy testarudo…”_

“Exactly babe, I got balls, I’ll be fine.”

After he was off the phone, Daniel’s chair was scraping closer to his side, dark eyes darting over him as he chewed his lip. 

“Can you just take a walk or something? I’m fine,” Johnny said hoarsely, breathing harder.

“I just worry about this bringin’ back bad memories--”

“The only thing doing that is _you.”_

Raymond trotted over to the table. “Noooiice, Sensei, looks like you took a few hits but I’d hate to see the _other_ dude!”

“Oh jesus christ, the hardware guy?--” Daniel griped.

“I just wanted to say I’m totally cool with you being masc-for-masc. I get the need for a cover in your profession--the ‘esteemed rivalry,’ amirite??” He winked with stubby quote fingers. “But you guys _tore it up_ on the floor with that crazy lambada grind. Proud of you, man. Well, I gotta get back to my keto flan--I’ll let you two get back to the hag squad.” He slapped Johnny’s shoulder, totally desensitized to his laser blue death stare.

The dead silence at the table was louder than the music, voices and clanging dishes.

Amanda inhaled deeply. “So. Did you have fun while we were gone, Masc 1 and Masc 2?”

“Manda, it’s a _huge_ misunderstanding!” 

Johnny didn’t even need to look at Carmen’s pained eyes anymore. He felt them.

The muraled walls were closing in and turning into a kingdom of night. A starless sky, station wagons, Datsuns. The cracking sound and the khaki sleeve across his neck, the swipe he took at Tommy that gave him one breath, a second of relief. He was _glad_ when Kreese clocked Tommy--

The relief wasn’t coming now, and was magnified by the swelling, the wretched itching. The only thing that was the same was Daniel’s toothy face in the background, full of concern. Johnny wasn’t sure if his heart could beat faster than it did on the dance floor, but it did as he fell out of his chair.

* * *

  
  
  


Everything after that was a blur of faces and lights and sugar skulls in ruffled dresses forcing a tube down his throat. Something like that. 

Getting your ass kicked by traces of a damn avocado.

Once Johnny was at the hospital--pumped full of epinephrine and enough steroids to allow Sid to run a marathon--he was extubated, and ready for all the visitors he wasn’t going to be able to look in the eye.

The only one there was Daniel. “Manda, um...took Carmen home.”

“Figured as much," Johnny frowned in a hoarse tone. "Kinda hard to block out Chubbs.” 

“You shoulda just said he was crazy!” 

“I think _that’s_ obvious. It’s not even that they looked upset...more like...the part of that movie where Bruce Willis figures out he’s been dead the whole time.” 

“....It was my fault,” Daniel sighed. “I’m the one who--”

“I wasn’t exactly cha-cha-ing against my will.” 

“It wasn’t a cha-cha.” 

“Whatever. I got what I deserved.”

“What. That you’re alive?” 

“Pff. Yeah right.” 

Daniel listened to the machines beeping and whirring for a bit. It was much slower than a salsa rhythm, and Mr. Miyagi would’ve called it _manzoku,_ contentment, although not just for the owner of the heart. “So what do we do now?”

“Mrs. ‘New Boy Every Week’ seems pretty open-minded, man, she’ll forgive you. Carmen is a little more...traditional.” 

“I-I didn’t mean what I said about dating a student’s mom. I shouldn’t talk. Mr. Miyagi had another student, I dated her, totally violated senpai/kohai-- I just...never expected to...see,” he struggled with expressive hand gestures. “You. In someone’s...company. Like, if you’d had....a lady friend that day at the dealership, I’m not sure I would’ve been so--” 

“Daniel. It’s fine.” 

He nodded jerkily. “O-okay.” 

The nurse peeked into the room. “Visiting hours are almost over, Mr. Lawrence.” She acknowledged Daniel with wiggly fingers. “Your partner can stay for a few more minutes.” 

When she disappeared from the door frame, Daniel, feeling his own throat closing up, didn’t look back at Johnny for a moment or two. 

“Welp,” Johnny said. “They see someone hanging on a guy's every word, they’re bound to think that.”

“Sorry.” 

“I meant _me,_ dipshit.” 

Daniel drifted closer to the bed, but just held on to the guardrail for a while, until he leaned over it clumsily to give him the quickest blip of a kiss on the mouth he’d ever given anyone. Hasty “muh” sound and all. Johnny’s eyes were open and wide. He just looked at him.

That peck was a manuscript.

They smashed into a full-fledged make-out, messy and urgent.

“Wait,” Johnny panted as they broke away. “Slowly.”

“I can’t.” 

“Okay.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This vid inspired a lot of the moves in Green Stuff: ❤️❤️❤️ https://youtu.be/99r-Y10cVGQ


	4. Renegades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny becomes a defector to Miyagi-Do.

He banished Kreese with one last jingling of the door, and then he panicked. 

There was no way this was going to be _that_ easy. 

The old man hadn’t given up after he kicked the cigar out of his mouth. He hadn’t given up after Smitty’s. He would find another grand gesture, even bigger than reeling back time and making second place good enough.

Or, he’d make sure Johnny could never be cobbled back together again.

The eerily organized office was turning his stomach and he swiped some things off the desk.

He downed a bottle of bourbon to steady himself, but his heart was still racing, plummeting down his ribcage. 

If he told LaRusso that he’d given Kreese the boot, would that change anything? Would there just be a “ _told ya’ so,” or “well, that doesn’t glue my pots from the Taishō dynasty back together.”_

Or maybe would there be stinging eyes and silence, lines smoothed from Daniel’s brow. “ _John...I’m sorry.”_

He went out to the car and slumped behind the wheel. He sunk down from a random chill and looked up in the rearview, but saw nothing but the traffic lights on Van Nuys Boulevard. 

He couldn’t see the shrouded figure in the back seat.

Kreese knew Johnny well enough to know he always left his car unlocked. This wasn’t common for someone from Encino, but Johnny wasn’t really from Encino, was he?

Kreese shot up and his arms surrounded the driver’s seat, but this headlock had another ingredient--a rag soaked with sweet, musty chloroform over Johnny’s face. It wasn’t as fast-working as in the movies, but drunkenness was a beautiful catalyst. Kreese was up for the challenge. He liked the intimacy of it. 

"Told you you’d leave yourself _vulnerable.”_

Johnny arched off the seat and was beastly loud for someone trying not to inhale. The headrest gave Kreese the perfect leverage and he jacked the seat forward so Johnny couldn’t kick against the dash. A gurgling sound finally jerked into his throat. “You’re a danger to the students,” Kreese spat. “You wanna be like LaRusso?? Just focus on _breathing,_ ” he growled as he jerked him against the seat. “See where that gets you.”

The chloro threshold between sedated and dead was a thin line that Johnny seemed determined to cross, until he finally succumbed with pained moans and slumped into the seat. His lips were flush and the tip of his nose was raw from the burning chemical.

Kreese made sure he wasn’t playing possum, and then sighed hard. That shouldn’t have taken so long, but Johnny Lawrence was a horse. He exuded raw power even in droopy unconsciousness.

“Hope you don't mind scoochin’ over to shotgun,” Kreese chuckled around the the cigar he was lighting. “We’re going for a little ride to your new dojo. I got a look around it bright and early this morning. It looks like my personal vision of hell, but it’s perfect for what you’ve become.” 

* * *

  
Daniel turned over on his couch, waking up stiff and disoriented again, and it wasn’t even 1 a.m. yet. He held his bad knee to his chest and winced, then ran a hand through sweaty hair. He was used to sleeping in his boxers, but being smack in the middle of the living room required a level of decency. The robe felt itchy and hot as hell. 

He’d fallen asleep plotting counter-offers for Anoush, but when thoughts of Kreese at Miyagi-do crept back into his mind, Anoush disappeared into the ether. 

Kreese’s burnt-smelling, acid-washed presence on hallowed grounds was laughable to a degree, but something was still gnawing at Daniel. There was something beyond the threats that he couldn’t put his finger on, and he finally figured it out. If he was saying these kinds of things to kids, what was he saying to Johnny?

  
  


His phone flashed and skittered to life on the coffee table, and Daniel almost fell off the cushions. “Jesus!” he sucked through his teeth.

He didn’t recognize the number, but Daniel LaRusso always picked up. At 1 am, or when his phone was supposed to be in airplane mode, or in the middle of Anthony’s head crowning in the delivery room. Besides, what if it was Johnny, drunk at a payphone? 

“Hel—”

_"Not surprised I caught you at this hour. What a little cuck.”_

Cigar smoke was practically wafting out of the phone. Daniel shot up from the couch. “Now you’re crank callin’ me at one in the morning??” He tried to keep his voice down. The reflux in his throat was helping.

“ _Oh, you wish this was about Prince Albert in a can, kid. Listen, I’m over at your little oasis. Johnny needs some pointers about this floating whiskey barrel top. At least, that’s what he’d call it, if he could.”_

Daniel’s knee buckled and he sank back down into the cushions. The air around him felt like solid ice. “...what did you do…what the hell did you do?” 

_“He told me to leave my own dojo, can you believe it? So, I thought I’d give him a tour of the other side. You’re gonna have a unique opportunity to..._ **_elevate_ ** _him.”_

Daniel struggled to rip the trembling from his voice, to not let on a millisecond of weakness. “...Kreese...tell me what the hell’s going on...please.”

“ _Oh, I like those manners. He’s, uh...beautifully hogtied on the platform right now, but he’s not a skinny little thing like you. He’s having a hell of a time staying in the middle, but it’s definitely in his best interest. See, LaRusso, I spent a lot of time in places that didn’t exactly honor the Geneva Convention. I was bound to get a little inspiration.”_

Daniel could see the scene as clear as night behind his eyelids. He slipped into a Jersey stammer as he grabbed his keys and stumbled out the front door, jumping in the Q7 in his robe and socks. “W-what do you want, money, d’ya want money, is that it?” 

Bluetooth had Kreese’s oily voice surrounding him on the car speakers as he tore out of the driveway. “ _I already got what I wanted. I wanted to hear your voice after I told you. Music, sweet music. But the best part will be the chorus.”_ Kreese stood on the balance pond rocks with the Ericsson. “ _How do you put this thing on speaker...?”_

Daniel’s sweaty hands gripped the wheel as she sped down Escalon. His only hope for a sign of life was Kreese’s tech savvy. “I-it usually looks like a, a megaphone with lines coming out,” he muttered in a head-pounding stupor.

“ _A button on the screen or the keys? Ah, here we go.”_ The platform was wobbling, water lapping at Johnny’s chest as he struggled to crane his neck. The breath rushing from his nose was loud on the duct tape wrapped all the way around his mouth. “ _It’s LaRusso, can you give him an estimate of how long it’ll be, or what?”_

Daniel heard a muffled screech. Johnny was trying desperately to say something. He moaned it again in the same intonation.

“Johnny!? Please don--please just hang tight, nice n’ easy, don’t do anything rash,” he said, stopping short at a red light. “I’m comin’ for you. Just focus on your balance and _only_ your balance, don’t let your mind wander t-to Kathy Ireland in a bathin’ suit or somethin’--”

Johnny groaned and rolled his eyes to somewhere in the stratosphere. His airborne legs made him shift to the side again and the platform wobbled, his chin dipping in the cold water. He strained to wrench his shoulder the other way and tense up his hogtied limbs. There just _had_ to be a pond here. There had to be a fucking pond with a Japanese torture wheel.

“John...I’m so sorry—“

Kreese stamped out the speaker with his thumb and put the phone back to his ear. _“Godspeed, LaRusso,”_ he crooned, and dropped the Ericsson in the black pond. 

A horrible crackling surrounded Daniel from the car speakers, then nothing. “Joh--no, no no no,” he incanted. Kreese was going to leave Johnny to his fate and he was still fifteen minutes away from Canoga Park. Daniel looked down and remembered he was still in his robe. Hugh fucking Heffner to the rescue. He maneuvered out of it , leaving himself in a red T-shirt and blue boxers, and of course his socks that felt painfully thin on the gas pedal. 

He wanted to believe that Johnny was in a bubble of Mr. Miyagi’s protection at that house. 

Not that bad things had never happened there--lies, vandalism, Mike Barnes’ shoe on his neck. He probably should’ve done something to cleanse all that bad energy a long time ago. “Please, Mr. Miyagi, please,” he shuddered to the marrow of his bones. No man was an island, and as much as Johnny had tried to change, he had to be one for just a little longer.

* * *

  
  
Kreese looked down at his bait, puffing a cigar, as Johnny stared up at him and _mfffuffoffed_ a heavy curse, tipping back and forth again.

“Yeah, I know, I probably should’ve told him about the IED I put in the house, but what fun would that be? So...if you manage to stay afloat while he probably drives the speed limit the whole way over here...I hope he gets that tape off your smirking little face in time. Never forget, Johnny...I know you boys better than you know yourselves.” 

  
He threw his cigar into the pond.

_Rosencrantz and Guildenstern go to ‘t,_ he thought as he left in the Challenger.

  
  


If the original Cobra boys ever mouthed off during pool training, Kreese would threaten to hogtie them, but he’d never made good until now.

The terrible quiet when Johnny was wobbling alone was dizzying. This was a secluded neighborhood for Reseda. He’d wrecked his voice with all the noise he’d made and now was just humming dazedly against the duct tape. _“Nice n’ easy,”_ he played over and over in his head. He was pretty sure that was a boxed hair dye his mother used before Encino. 

Was this what it felt like to focus and find balance? To think of Laura, to think of LaRusso, his kids, everyone that was constant even when they were gone? Johnny strained to keep still for those eternal minutes, his legs tipping again, his connected arms cranking his torso to the side until the water was lapping at his hair, the circle dipped, and he slid into the pond with one last muffled curse.

He was on his side on the rocky bottom, jerking, thinking with legs that were part of his arms. All he had to do was curl up to the surface like a limbless seahorse, but he just thrashed around, scraping his face. 

The water was burning his nose that still stung from the chloroform. This was the fate that chased him over and over again—. in parking lots, Applebee’s bathrooms, dive bars in San Bernadino. It had finally wrestled him to the ground. Strangely enough, it felt peaceful when he jerked into blackness. Nothing was stopping him from breathing but water.

* * *

Daniel blasted through the fence in his socks. He wanted to call out Johnny’s name, but the sight of the empty platform knocked his voice out of him.

He made a sound that was a cross between a whimper and a growl.

How long had it been, how long? He lunged into the pond, clawing around, unable to see a thing. He finally nudged into a soft heap and struggled to gather him into his arms, fighting the snapping tension of the ropes when he thought he had him. He rocketed up and hit his head on the balance wheel, almost losing hold of the cold bundle. 

He broke the surface, moaning and woozy, and hoisted him to the grass. “Johnny.” He couldn’t budge the knots or lay him on his back. He turned him on his side. It was nearly impossible to grip the wet duct tape, tears squeezing from his own eyes as he desperately tried, the adhesive stretching in slimy threads. Johnny was as blue as his eyes, and he couldn’t get to his mouth. Daniel heard teenaged Johnny’s voice--” _The legendary shnozz!”_ He tilted his head back. It would have to suffice until he budged the tape. Daniel took a deep breath and puffed into Johnny’s nose, desperate to give him anything.

His chest barely stirred. He finally wrestled the tape off with a tearful grunt, pinched Johnny’s nose and sealed his open mouth with his. “C’mon, Johnny--” He didn’t know how to do compressions with him stuck on his side. He pumped one fist to his sternum and found leverage holding on tight between his shoulder blades. “Robby and the kids need you, no more playin’ around.” Warm, sticky blood was dripping down from the cut on Daniel’s head as he filled him with basic and pumped his chest, feeling the exhaustion already. “You can’t--” he gasped after a long shared breath--Johnny’s cheeks inflating with the effort- “--do this!” 

Johnny jolted and spurted, soaking Daniel’s thin T-Shirt and boxers. He almost fell onto Johnny in his relief as the bound man coughed and gagged pond water all over him. It was the best target on him he’d ever had. Daniel exhaled, resting his head against his. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. Let’s never do wheel technique like that again, okay?”

Johnny could only see a skinny blob, and he just let that nasally voice fall over him. Daniel smoothed the matted gold hair from his forehead. Johnny tried to say something. “We gotta get you untied,” the blob said. He stumbled to get a sharp pair of clippers, chopping the ropes tying Johnny’s wrists to his ankles. He moaned as his limbs fell slack and he tried to focus on the dark hair close to his face, the wet hand enclosing his.

As his vision painfully formed, Johnny looked at him in his wrinkly pajamas and breathed in the smell of laundry detergent and cologne, trying to keep it with him before another coughing fit took over. Daniel had bolted here in his socks. Wasn’t there something important he had to tell him? “...nmhhh...daniel...”

Daniel tried not to let his given name redden his face, and pretended not to notice. “Shh-shh. Slow breaths. I got all night for insults.”

What the fuck was it? His head was swimming in oxygen-rich blood and the memory jangled in his head. The IED. They didn’t have all night--they might not have another minute.

Johnny pushed up to his knees, folding to them for a second as he coughed and gasped, and Daniel was “whoa whoa whoa whoa-”ing up a storm. 

“...we gottago,” Johnny winced.

“Wha--? Go where? You’re not goin’ anywhere!”  
  


Johnny clutched Daniel’s face, his thumb in a faint trail of blood. “...kreese put a bomb in the house.” 

Daniel froze in Johnny’s hand. Of course, his priorities were skewed when it came to this house. “We gotta find it--” 

“We gotta _go!_ \--” Johnny panted. “What’re you gonna do, figure out which wire to cut??” 

“If there’s a chance--”

Johnny’s whole body was killing him, breath rasping, mouth drooling stagnant pond water, but he wrestled Daniel over his shoulder and stumbled for the gate. 

“Johnny!?” 

“Both of us….getting blown up kinda defeats the purpose of you saving my ass, dumbshit…!” Johnny stiffly quickened his pace and stumbled for the road, and by the time they reached a belt of trees, the explosion threw them forward onto the ground in a tangle of arms and legs.

  
  
  


“.....uhnnhhh….” Johnny moaned, clutching his neck. Whiplash was a less-than-welcome addition to everything else. He patted around and found a stubbly face. “...you okay?...”

Daniel struggled to his knees, coughing, and watched with a catatonic stare as the little ranch was devoured by flames. There were sparking bits of the clay roof still hitting the ground. The Q7’s alarm was going off as shards of glass dangled in its window frames.

Johnny raked a hand over his eyes. Letting a glued trophy sway his heart had consequences far beyond what he ever imagined. It had destroyed an irreplaceable house.

“LaRusso, I...fuck, ’m sorry….this is all because I let Kreese--” 

Daniel raised a gentle hand, but didn’t speak for a moment. He finally rested the hand on Johnny’s. “...it’s because you broke it off with him. It wasn’t gonna be easy, right…?”

“But, I never should’ve--”

“You broke it off with him. I’m better than okay.” He slumped against Johnny’s shoulder and wrapped his arms around his back, feeling his pulse lumping in a delicate rhythm. “It’s just a house.” He looked up at Johnny’s tired, illuminated face. This had been his first and last thought of the day for almost a year. “I got what I came for.”

Johnny’s blinking eyes widened and his lip hooked into a smirk. “...thanks, man.”

“You don’t exactly have to mention it after the fireman carry.” 

They watched the blaze crackle, sighing hard. “I guess we’ll both be needing a new dojo,” Johnny said.

"One thing at a time, please? Fire department, police...my insurance company--” he cringed. 

“Me suing your ass.” 

Daniel ignored him. “--Making sure Kreese never gets near you or the kids again. And you need a doctor--don’t say you’re fine--” he answered the slightest opening of Johnny’s mouth.

"I wasn’t! You think I want to get some sort of brain-eating amoeba from your stupid pond?” 

“Hnh, a moment of silence for the amoeba who will die of starvation.” 

Johnny shook his head, snickering. “You didn’t even remember to put on pants.” 

“It’ll make sense if you just think about it for a minute,” he sighed. 

Johnny grinned, leaning in with a hand on Daniel’s cheek. “You wanna catch me up on anything else I missed?” he asked, low and sweet.

Johnny’s lips were anything but cold and unresponsive now, and Daniel's reaction was loud, to say the least. There was a current moving between them from Johnny’s laughter in his mouth, and Daniel, losing his mind, tackled him on the grass. They were adoringly rough, breaking only to gaze hard, trying to memorize each other in the light of the sacred little house on fire.

Mr. Miyagi had thought about Johnny Lawrence for years after the parking lot. He’d brought it up shortly before his death. What had become of him, what could become of a boy betrayed so badly by his teacher? He felt that closure now, and Mr. Miyagi’s presence all around him. _“He turned out alright,”_ Daniel silently answered.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> [ Fan art!](https://libertinepast.tumblr.com/post/631960405580873728/cobra-shy-made-fan-art-for-giri)  
> The wonderfully talented @cobra-shy on tumblr drew a comic of the hospital scene in Giri!


End file.
